


She Weeps For Him.

by Usual_Obsession



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: One Shot, god doesn’t hate Klaus really, please let me have this, slim chance of more if I’m hit with the inspiration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-27
Updated: 2019-08-27
Packaged: 2020-09-27 13:47:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20408746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Usual_Obsession/pseuds/Usual_Obsession
Summary: One shot experimental pieceGods perspective of the Klaus time line. She doesn’t hate him really.





	She Weeps For Him.

Contrary to popular belief god does not, in fact, hate Klaus. Sure he can be annoying but, altogether, the little girl in the sky finds him amusing in a way she's not found people in, well, since some time after the creation. 

There had been a few. Most of which kept documented in a book humans seemed enraptured with, despite some parts being awfully misconstrued. But they were few and far between eventually she'd lost interest altogether. 

She had, by default, made him, Klaus. She had made the first humans, but, as a species, they'd been making so many of their own things recently that she didn't really have much control over what they were like at this point. Not that she couldn't just change them as she saw fit, but, with the sheer amount of them now a-days, it's far more hassle than it's worth. Not to mention, she's very much given up on them some thousands of years ago. 

She hadn't paid a hand in the strange series of births on that one fateful October, she's rather sure, she'd almost missed it in fact. But it had managed to catch her attention. Once the children born had begun to display abilities she'd not originally designed humans to have. It was something new but they all quickly grew to be boring too. Apart from one. 

He seemed familiar, he was only a babe, but she's sure she'd seen that particular soul once before. In a jungle, in a war, in love. It had suddenly appeared one day fully formed and old that soul, not like a baby that takes 9 months to flicker to life, not like the rapid blossoming of the 43 women's predicament. And she didn't recognise it as one of those stuffy commission folks that hopped around her creation as they saw fit. 

No this one had only done it once, seemingly confused, and left after experiencing total heart break and damning her name. She'd not take offence, he'd felt like a broken and lost soul when he arrived, and he and the other man had fallen so in love. They had held each others broken pieces together so tenderly. She's not surprised it had hurt so deeply. 

He turned out to be number 4, which was strange as she's sure she'd recalled the older soul having a different name. She's also sure naming children with numbers wasn't good parenting, even she'd called her creations Adam and Eve, numbers were just lazy.

She kept a close eye on him as he grew. She grew attached. The child who should be so full of wonder at the world she'd made was left to be tormented by the shadows of souls too stubborn to accept their fate. It was heart breaking. And that foul man. She swore to turn him away if he ever thought once of coming up here. To leave such a innocent and young soul to the mercy of the insatiable wails and horrific visions of ones long since gone feral. To leave a fragile soul to simply crack and fragment to the point it self imploded. For all they talk about her forgiveness she could not ignore nor forgive what he had done. 

Oh and when his brothers own mortality had ran out she couldn't bare to let him experience such torment and anguish as the kind, understanding sixes soul became foul and demented. She shouldn't have done it, it wasn't her place anymore, but who was to know. So she helped the young soul. Placed upon it a protection from the plaguing madness that befell those who chose to stay too long, as she knew he'd choose to stay. 

The bitter sweet result left her torn. On the one hand that poor lonely soul had now a companion for life, inseparable and a much more sensible head on their ghostly shoulders. On the other, disbelief. Despite knowing his abilities, despite knowing he was hurting too, and despite knowing that he would never have it in himself to lie about this. Despite everything they couldn't, no, they wouldn't believe him. They couldn't see what he saw, what she saw. And that now lonelier soul needed all the company he could get so she had no regret in her action. Even if he sometimes couldn't believe too. 

She wept for him.


End file.
